Lights and Cameras
by fan affliction
Summary: He was a divorced tattoo artist with nothing to lose while she fancied herself a puppeteer with everything to gain. Anakin Skywalker and his employees of his tattoo parlor "Light-Saber" were Padme Amidala's newest project. The biggest rule of the business; don't get attached.


_Please review. Reviews inspire me to write more, faster._

* * *

 _Anakin_.

"This absolutely has to be the worst idea you've ever had, Snips." I regarded her harshly. "And you've had plenty bad ideas."

Ahsoka glanced over at me, her sidelong smile mocking. "I thought you were through being salty?" I glared at her.

My shirt was too tight — the tie around my collar may as well have been a noose as we stood in our tattoo parlor that night, waiting for some hotshot producers to meet with us. The steaming heat building inside my stiff clothes ratcheted up my irritation degree by degree.

"Please." I huffed. "I'll be through being salty when this show is over."

"Well, our agent said we could get signed on for years, if we're lucky."

A bitter laugh shot out of me.

"Right. Lucky. How are we supposed to work with cameras in our faces and people telling us where to stand and what to say?"

"It's reality TV. Telling us what to say would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" I gave her a look.

"You really think they're not going to give us some kind of objective or script or something?" She shrugged, not seeming to mind. But that was Snips. Though we were completely unrelated she was just younger version of me without a care in the world. Not that I minded bearing the brunt of the responsibility. In exchange, she could remain carefree, though in times like these, I wished she'd had a tiny bit more self-preservation.

"Listen," she said, her voice a little softer, her smile a little less mocking. "I know you're not happy about all this, but it's going to be good for business, not bad. They're not going to follow you around at all hours, you know? There are rules, Skyguy."

The look I'd been giving her hadn't quit. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's better than the show going to _Ryder_ , isn't it?" The muscles in my face tensed at the sound of his name. Ryder, owner of the second biggest parlor on the West Side — the first being mine. Ryder, the current husband of my ex-wife. Ryder, the pain in my ass that I could never get rid of.

I shifted, rolling my shoulders to square them as I shifted my gaze to the door. "Fuck Ryder."

"Exactly," she said, his tone pleased. She had me. It was how she'd roped me into the situation in the first place. When we'd been approached to do a show about our shop, Light-Saber, by a big network that mostly ran reality TV, I'd immediately said no. There was no question — not a single molecule in my body was on board with putting any part of my business or self out there for the masses to binge on Netflix. But Ahsoka was so on board, she could have driven the train. In fact, she did end up driving the train. She spearheaded an effort to convince me, starting with her girlfriend Barriss, our piercer. She'd then gotten her two friends, Rex and Lux, on board, and they'd spread the excitement through the shop.

They didn't see it as selling out — they all thought it would make them famous, set their careers up for life.

I supposed it would, but at what cost? That was my question.

To my credit, I'd held my ground with only one person on my side — Obi-wan. He was as interested in exposing his personal life as he was exposing himself to chlamydia. And as outnumbered as I was, I wasn't going to budge. Ahsoka needed my permission to do it, and I wasn't going to give it. End of story.

Until we caught wind that Ryder's shop had been approached too. The last thing I wanted in the entire world, other than being on a reality show, was for Ryder to be on one.

My attention snapped to the door when the ding of the bell chimed, and two pencil skirts walked into the shop. One of the women walked forward, a bit older than myself, with light red hair, crystal blue eyes, and a small smile, though I knew better than to trust it.

Mon Mothma, I assumed, the creator of the show. She was beautiful, the kind of woman who was way out of my station, rich, powerful. But I had no doubt I could have gotten her into bed with a few words — she was the sort of woman who would only want me for a night or two, never more, which was exactly how I preferred it. I'd had my fill of relationships with Emmy.

But it wasn't Mon who I couldn't take my eyes off of. The woman at her side was short and brunette, with skin like a porcelain dish brimming with cream. Wide-set, big eyes with dark irises assessed me coolly, dark lashes long. Her nose was pert, just a button, though her lips were lush and painted faintly pink. She looked like a doll, a cold, beautiful doll that belonged on a shelf where no man should touch her. For some reason, all I could think about was whether or not her skin was cool to the touch like I imagined it would be, like a statue made of marble.

I tore my eyes away when Mon spoke. "Anakin Skywalker?" she asked, her lips still smiling.

I offered my hand. "Ms. Mothma?"

"Call me Mon." She took it and gave it a firm shake. "Nice to finally meet you."

"You too," I lied. I'd been putting the meeting off for weeks. She smiled like she knew before looking over the shop. "I'm sorry we haven't been by personally before now. This space is beautiful. You've done a great job with it — it's going to film brilliantly. Is there somewhere we can sit?"

I nodded and gestured to our waiting area and the antique Victorian couches and chairs that stood there. Mon chose the blood-red velvet couch, and the china doll sat next to her with an unreadable expression on her face, though her big eyes scanned the room like she was taking stock of her surroundings. She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder, placing it in her boss' hand.

"I'd like you to meet our executive producer and the show runner, Padme Amidala, my right hand. We'll all be working closely, hopefully in more comfortable clothes than we're meeting in tonight."

Ahosoka giggled. My eyes were on Padme, who smiled, if you could call it that. Really, it was just a twitch of one corner of her lips by a millimeter, chased by a spark in her eyes as they met mine. Something about it sent my pulse racing, and a flush bloomed on her cheeks. She was as affected by me as I was by her. It was then that I realized that her mirth was equal parts attraction and judgment. I got the impression that she thought little of us, yet her eyes scanned my arms, which were covered in tattoos, in a way I wouldn't call completely unimpressed. I wondered if she had a single mark on her perfect skin and imagined taking my needle to it, making a mark I could leave there forever.

The thought sent a rush of heat through me. Her dark hair was pulled into a strict bun, her skirt tight around her hips and thin waist, everything about her severe and beautiful. I wondered what it would look like when she smiled, when she was free and happy, if she ever was. There was something more to her, but I couldn't figure out what. And I wanted to know.

I then decided two things.

One: My new mission in life was to make her laugh.

Two: I'd crack her open if it was the last thing I did.

Mon opened the folder and set it on the table, leaning over her crossed knees to sort through the papers. "We wanted to go over some of our plans for modifying the space for the show, as well as discuss the layout for the episodes. Padme?"

Padme sat even straighter, if that were possible, making eye contact with me. "If you have a look over this, you'll find the details of the construction proposal. Cameras will be added to several points in the store, as well as some ancillary lighting. We may need to rearrange the booths to …" She kept talking, but I wasn't really listening anymore. Her voice was low and sweet, perfect for her pristine outward impression catching me off guard. I expected a cold voice to match the rest of her, but it wasn't — it was burning embers and crackling wood.

I swallowed the thought of that voice whispering my name, and then I smiled, leaned back in my chair, folded my arms across my chest, and pretended I didn't have a single worry in the world. She stopped mid-sentence, and the temperature dropped as she threw down the iron curtain, any trace of warmth she had disappearing in a snap.

"Is something amusing, Mr. Skywalker?" I shrugged.

"Not particularly." Her eyes narrowed.

"Once you sign these papers, we'll have permission to come in here and modify your store. You should take it seriously." Mon gave her a look, but Padme didn't falter.

"I don't take much seriously, if I can help it." I got the sense that if we weren't in a business meeting, she would have rolled her eyes. Her back was ramrod straight as she directed her eyes to one of the sheets on the table and went on with her presentation. I watched her fingers, long and white as she pointed to diagrams and told us about the changes. Ahsoka watched me, amused. I smirked at her.

Padme went on, going over everything with a detached tone to her voice, though I could hear the tightness in the undercurrent of her words. She pushed the papers toward us when she was finished and leaned back, turning to Mon, never chancing a look at me. The knowledge that she was avoiding eye contact was like spurs in my side. I kept my gaze on her, willing her to look at me so I could burn a hole through her. Something about her made me feel reckless, more reckless than usual anyways. I'd never really had trouble convincing women to spend a little time with me, but climbing over the wall of ice she'd thrown between us was a challenge I was game for.

I could press her out of curiosity with one of two outcomes. She'd leave the show and take the whole thing with her, or she wouldn't. And if she didn't, maybe there was a chance that I could get catch a better glimpse of whatever I'd seen in her.

Ahsoka cleared her throat, and I looked over to find both Mon and Ahsoka staring at me expectantly. Padme's eyes were still on Mon.

I smirked again, not even a little ashamed of myself. "Sorry. It's chilly in here, don't you think?"

Ahsoka tried to cover a laugh with a cough and said, "I dunno, Skyguy. Feels a little steamy to me."

I laughed. "That's just your monkey suit talking."

Mon's lips pursed once, suppressing a smile. "I was just asking whether everything looks good to you or if you need some time?" My eyes were on Padme again, and I didn't know just why I found the whole thing so amusing. But I did.

"Everything looks good to me. Real good." Mon full-on smiled that time and pulled out some more papers.

"Perfect. I'll need to have all of your employees sign these updated contracts, as well as you and Ms. Tano. This is the final version with all of the requests that your lawyer made, including the negotiated payment and reimbursement for any damages and modifications to the shop. I convinced my bosses to do the history and cultural segments you asked for, too, which you'll find in the episode packets. They love the angle of learning about the subculture — it's something we haven't seen before. They were also on board with hiring a new composer, as so not to have the—" she glanced at one of the papers in her hand, "Cheesy bullshit soundtrack, as you called it."

I smiled and sat up in my seat. I had a list of demands in order for me to participate in the farce, and Mon had pulled through. Part of me had hoped they wouldn't so I could refuse, but at least if I had to do the damned show, it would be on my own terms. She smiled back and shuffled through more papers. "We also have copies of all of the permits in here for your files, in case your landlord or the city needs to see them, but you can always direct any inquiries like that to us." I nodded. "We appreciate you meeting with us, Anakin. Ms. Tano told us that you weren't overly enthusiastic about the show, but I'm glad you came around. I hope you'll be pleasantly surprised with how we do things. It's not all fake drama and cat fights — we leave that to Survivor and The Bachelor. And if there's ever an issue, you can always come to Padme or me. We're here to ensure that things run smoothly — we're problem solvers. So if anything crops up that you're unhappy about, let us try to help fix it. Okay?"

I nodded again, uncomfortable with her hitting me in a soft spot, calling me on my fears so openly.

Mon went on. "Great. I just told our lead engineer that I'd take a couple of shots of the office and back room for him, some things he didn't get when he was here last week. Could one of you show me the way?"

Ahsoka stood up as I opened my mouth to answer. "Yeah, come on. It's just back this way," she said. Mon stood and smiled at me like she knew what I was thinking, which was nearly full-blown giddiness at the prospect of being alone with Padme. I wanted to see her squirm. I'd see her squirm if it killed me. Ahsoka turned her back to the women and winked at me as she passed. Padme recrossed her legs as they walked away — her long legs, the same creamy white as the rest of her — and brushed the backs of her fingers against her skirt with a flick before leaning forward to pick up the papers, stacking them with a click against the table. She still wouldn't look at me.

"So, we'll be working closely, it would seem," I said.

"It would seem."

The words were tight. A smile played at my lips. "Does something about me offend you, Ms. Amidala?"

She shifted, turning her nose up, her eyes toward the window — my eyes followed the line of her jaw, which was somehow both hard and soft. "Not at all." I chuckled.

"You're a terrible liar. Has anyone ever told you that?" Her eyes finally snapped to mine, and I tried to melt her panties off with my mind. A flush rose in her cheeks.

"What is it with you?" she asked, surprising me with her directness.

I shrugged. "Not quite sure what you mean."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to stare?"

"Sure, but when I see an angel such as yourself, I find it hard not to look." She laughed, but the sound held no humor, and her eyes were hard and mocking on mine.

"Yeah, I get it. I'm just the pretty face, right? Why wouldn't I want to be sexualized by strangers? Did you have any cat-calls on hand for me? Maybe it's one I haven't heard before."

One eyebrow climbed. "Touché."

She shook her head, her eyes hard on mine. "You're basically a walking cliché. Funny that you don't see women treating men like meat."

I chuffed. "Wait until you've spent a few days in the shop, angel."

Her anger flared, her flush deepening." Don't call me angel, _Sir_."

"Don't call me Sir, angel."

She glared.

I smiled.

I put my hands up in surrender, finding her presumptions amusing, imagining the look on her face when she realized exactly how wrong she was. "Listen, I'm sorry, but in fairness, I'm not the one playing ice queen."

"No. You're playing the role of a rogue one, aren't you?"

I bobbled my head. "I don't really play the rogue. It's just my natural state. Drove my mother nuts." "

I'd have to agree with her."

"So you're admitting I drive you nuts? This has to be a new record for me. What's it been, fifteen minutes?"

She glanced at her watch. "Twelve." The word was flat and humorless, but I laughed nonetheless.

"I like you," I said. "Can't figure out exactly why." A ghost of a smile, suppressed and gone in a millisecond.

"That makes one of us."

"Well, I, for one, am looking forward to working with you, Padme."

"Ms. Amidala is preferred, thanks." The words were brusque, and I wondered if she was already trying to figure out how to get out of the job. In that exact moment, I hoped she couldn't. I hoped she'd be stuck to me like static cling. I leaned forward, finding myself close to her, close enough to smell her perfume, a hint of something floral and familiar, but I couldn't place it. What I could have done was gotten drunk off it.

"Well, Ms. Amidala, maybe I can change your mind." She turned her dark eyes on me, and I found them burning like I'd hoped, though it was veiled. I found their heat all the same.

"I very seriously doubt that, Mr. Skywalker."

I smiled. "Oh, I dunno. I can be very persuasive, when I put my mind to it." Her lips pinched and eyes narrowed by a tiny degree just as Mon and Ahsoka walked back into the room. I sat back in my chair, absolutely pleased with myself.

"Great," Mon said as she approached, not moving to sit back down. "I think we've got what we need. Padme will be in touch regarding the schedule. If you could get these contracts back to me in the next couple of days, it would really speed things along."

Ahsoka smiled. "We'll get you everything tomorrow."

"Perfect, then we can get our crew here to start the work Monday. It should only take a couple of days."

"That's all?" I asked, trying not to watch Padme as she stood and stepped away, taking the route that would keep her as far away from me as possible. Mon nodded.

"They've got it down to a science."

I stood and extended a hand. "Then I'll be seeing you sooner than later."

"Yes, you will," she said as she took it. "Thanks again for meeting with us, and for going for the show. It's going to do amazing things for your store, your brand."

I gave Snips a look. "So I hear."

"Good to see you, Mon," Ahsoka said as she shook her hand. "Padme." She shook her hand too. Something ignited in my chest as I reached out to shake Padme's hand, knowing she couldn't refuse with Mon watching on.

"Nice to meet you, _Padme_." The flush was back, just a rosy tinge to her high cheeks as she slipped her white fingers into my hand. They were soft and warm — no, they were hot — her palm pressing against mine as her fingers closed. It was only a second that we touched, but every single thing about the way she felt impressed into my mind. I squeezed once, firm but gentle, before she pulled away, but my fingers trailed down hers like they didn't want to let her go. She said nothing, just gave a curt nod and turned in a whoosh that left the smell of flowers in the draft, and I watched her walk out the door, narrow.

I slipped my hands into my pockets and watched the door for a second, my mind spinning and whirring.

I wanted to figure her out. In fact, I wanted that more than I'd wanted anything in a long, long time.

After a moment of silence, Ahsoka burst out into giddy laughter.

I glanced over at her, but she just kept laughing, the apples of her cheeks pink, her laugh big and booming.

"What?" I asked, a tad bit aggitated.

"Jesus Christ, Anakin! It's been ages since I've seen you undress a girl up with your eyes."

I shrugged. She kept laughing. "Just do me a favor."

"If it involves me not sleeping with her, I'm out."

"Trust me, I know better than to try to stop you once you've set your mind to something." Her smile slipped, her eyes narrowed with worry but still full of hope. "Just don't ruin this for us, okay?"

I clapped her gently on the shoulder and pulled her into my side. "Don't worry, Snips. I'll keep it under control."

And at the time, I actually believed the words.

* * *

 _Yeah...Anakin was married before. Don't hurt me!_


End file.
